Headphones
by HoneyBee137
Summary: An act of kindness from one stranger to another on a train leads to a night that neither will ever forget. To love the anonymous, to know the nameless: it's impossible isn't it? Sasuke POV. NARUsasu. One shot. AU. REPOSTED. Enjoy!


**Disclaimer:** I do NOT own Naruto!

**Beta:** Randomonia21

**Warning:** Man sex ahead!

**Before You Read:** My first attempt at NaruSasu! This is **MY original story**, it just got deleted accidentally (or not, stupid regulations), but it was so_ loved_ and well received before that I decided to repost it.

**…**

**Headphones**

**…**

It's always the last train of the day that I take home, and today is no different.

The train car is usually close to empty when I finally manage to get on, not because of the time, but because the train's route is from the corporate district of the city to the upscale residential area on the other side of town. The routes stops were few and far apart, and they don't go anywhere near where late night partiers would be stumbling onto the train in a drunken stupor, cheering happily at the fact that they'd made it in time for the last train.

The only regular on this particular train besides myself, is a man that too closely resembles the sun.

He seems young, twenty or so at the most. His hair is an obnoxious sunshine gold that catches the artificial light whenever the train jostles us during our ride. Playful spikes stick up off the man's head to create a halo of the flaxen stuff, giving off the appearance of an angel that just rolled out of bed.

His skin is so bronzed and dark that I fear his risk for melanoma, the apples of his cheeks have a constant red flush of sunburn, and it makes me wonder if he spends his days asleep in the sun. His skin is without flaw except for three thin scars on both of his burnt cheeks, giving him a feral and exotic look.

His body is tall, strong, and very masculine; his arms boast their strength by the display of some popped out veins outlining the many muscles of his forearms and biceps. His chest and shoulders are so defined and broad that it makes my mouth go dry, and his powerful looking legs are topped by the two delightfully round cheeks of his ass that just scream "squats".

He gives off the impression that he works with his hands a lot, with thick fingers and yellowed calluses on his palms. His nails are bitten and a tad scraggly, and on a few occasions I've seen him mindlessly chewing on them as he spaces out.

His teeth are a dentists dream though, white as snow and straighter than a ruler. The tooth-paste-commercial smile is framed by two pouty pink lips that always seem to be slightly turned up at the corners, as if he's sharing some inside joke with himself.

His eyes are something else all together though, his irises are a crystal clear, oceanic blue that remind me of those bright tropical oceans you so often see in pictures of places so elegantly dubbed as "paradise". They carry a depth and sincerity in them that lead me to believe he has an old soul, like he's seen too much in too short of a time. And yet there's a childish twinkle of curiosity and relentless determination that makes me believe he might be a child after all. Those eyes are magnificently framed by thick bark brown lashes that steal a kiss on his burnt cheeks each time he blinks.

I'm irrationally jealous of those lashes.

He dresses in worn blue jeans and a brightly colored t-shirt with a ratty old backpack slung over one of his broad shoulders almost every single time I see him. I've come to the conclusion that he simply doesn't _own_ a plain shirt. On occasion he'll wear a university sweatshirt, suggesting that he might be a college student; though that theory has not yet been proven.

He always seems to be listening to his iPod too, big chunky headphones always present on his tan ears. He bobs his head lightly and mouths the words to the song he is listening to. If he is especially into the song, he'll put a little more effort into mouthing the words, occasionally letting a few quiet notes escape his throat, filling my ears briefly with the sound of a velvety smooth and gruff voice.

To say I'm partially obsessed with the blond is the understatement of the century. He's a living, breathing version of a Greek God… that sits directly across from me every damn time I ride the train home.

He pays me no mind of course, totally absorbed in his music or texting one of his friends on his phone with a sly grin on his face, displaying a row of gleaming teeth and adding an extra bit of mischief to his stunningly beautiful eyes.

We've never made an attempt at conversation or even said two words to each other, but we do give a small nod or wave as a greeting or fair well as one or the other arrives or exits the train. This action alone is enough for me, I don't want to break the illusion that I have of this god like boy. I don't want him to not live up to my expectations and fantasies.

We've treated one another with a mildly friendly tolerance so far. Me, in my pressed and pristine suit with freshly polished shoes and regal looking appearance, sitting across from a possible college student that couldn't care less if he was wearing something wrinkled or scuffed with his oh-so-attractive yet nonchalant look that has my saliva glands working overtime at the delicious sight.

We're the opposite of one another in every way possible. Where I'm dark he's bright, and when I'm pale he's shaded. With my obsidian locks and oblivion eyes, contrasting greatly with creamy pale skin pulled taunt over the lean muscles of my body. The blond dwarfs me in size too, towering over me like some divine being sent to save my soul.

Always smiling and humming along to the music thrumming in his ears, when I'm scowling and fretting over purely adult matters that wouldn't interest the boy before me.

Today is different though. His headphones aren't covering his ears and there's a slight frown tugging his pretty pink lips into an unhappy sulk. His shirt is a dark green color, the darkest thing I've ever seen him wear, it displays his unhappy mood and it confuses me greatly.

This child of the sun is not shining. It goes against nature for the man to be in a bad mood.

An idea pops in my head and I pull out my sleek phone and some generic white ear buds. I make a show of it in an attempt to catch his attention. I can feel those azure eyes bore into me and I immediately get self conscious. I try to make my movements fluid and graceful, wanting to leave a lasting impression on this golden god.

I stick one of the ear buds in and browse my music selection, racking my brain trying to think of something this stranger might enjoy listening to. My selection offers very little options however, my taste in music being very classical yet lofty.

I enjoy going to symphonies and ballets with incredibly epic eighty piece orchestras, I sometimes even find myself at the opera houses or at some Broadway play just to enjoy the live performance.

I finally decide on some Tchaikovsky, the man who wrote the Nutcracker, the Sleeping Beauty, and Swan Lake ballet music. His music is big and powerful, the notes seeming to pound against your very soul. I consider him one of the few true geniuses that have walked this earth.

I take a small breath to calm my nerves and peer at the beautiful man sitting across from me. He's already looking at me when I look up, and my breath hitches for just a moment before I put on a mask of calm indifference and hold out the other ear bud to him in a silent invitation for him to join me.

His smile nearly blinds me with its brilliance.

He gathers his stuff in a bit of a hurry and comes to sit beside me, eagerly taking the ear bud from me and popping it into the ear the farthest away from me so that we have to sit closely to keep the buds from falling out. I watch his face as he hears the first few notes of the epic barrage of instruments assault his ears.

He looks bewildered at first and gives me a questioning look. I show him the name of the song on my phone and he gives a light nod, leaning into my shoulder slightly as he listens with a grin playing on his lips, his fingers pattering on his legs rather accurately to the notes of the piano.

He's so close that I can finally get a clear whiff of his scent; he smells of pine and honey with a musky undertone of sweat. I watch his fingers as they tap on his muscular thighs while I sigh in his scent over and over again, the wild beating of my heart drowning out the spiraling music thrumming wonderfully in my ears.

The train stops a few times, but we're still the only ones in this particular car. I stare at our dark reflection in the window across from us. We make a pretty picture together; we really are the opposites of one another any way you look at it. Light and darkness, that's what we are together. The only thing linking us is the headphones we share. But that's the only connection we need.

I feel goose bumps rise on my arms as I continue to look at our distorted reflections. We're so perfect together, two completely different versions of beauty sitting side by side in quiet harmony on the train.

The train slows to a halt and announces our stop, we both turn to one another and we share a look of quiet understanding. We both stand and walk off the train, still connected by a flurry of sounds.

We walk close to one another and I allow him to guide us to his apartment, all the while I stare at the pavement and say silent prayers to a god I don't believe in. We come to an old run down looking apartment building that I didn't even know existed on the upscale side of town. He leads me up a flight of stairs on the outside of the building and I wait patiently as he fumbles with his keys as he unlocks his door.

We go inside and put our stuff down and toe off our shoes, we shrug off our jackets and I glance around the small space. As I look about I find myself amidst an oddly appealing mess of an apartment. There's a small half kitchen connected to a living room with a couch and some work out equipment in front of an old chunky television set. The furnishings are stained and there are dishes in the sink and some trash on the floor.

The man leads me down a small hall with only three doors in it, two of the doors are open and I see a lived in looking bathroom and a mountain of dirty clothes in the laundry room of the other.

I find myself smiling deftly at the sight of organized chaos around me, feeling strangely at home in the cluttered place, even though it's a huge contrast to the meticulous cleanliness of my own home.

He leads me into the last room and kicks the door closed behind us and moves forward to turn on a small lamp on his bedside table, giving the room a faint yellow glow.

The room is covered in color, all four walls and his ceiling are painted different colors, his sheets a bright orange and his comforter a bright green, and even the carpet on his floor is covered in some of the most creative stains I've ever seen, ranging from what appears to be a blue slurpie mishap, to a dark brown stain of a caffeine craving gone wrong, marring the beige coloring. There's a petite desk in his room that has a heap of school work and text books piled up on it, confirming my theory that yes, he is a college student of some kind. Strangely, I feel lust pool in my stomach at the sight of his unmade, small twin bed.

He grabs the phone out of my hand and unplugs the music only to plug the device into his stereo and have the awe inspiring crescendo of violins and trumpets pulse throughout the colorful tornado of a room. The generic white ear buds slip from our ears and fall to the dirty floor, our one connection to each other lost.

We make eye contact for the first time since the train and I feel my cock jump at the liquid passion I see pooling in his eyes. I take a shaky breath to calm myself and discretely wipe my sweaty palms on my pants.

He takes a few steps towards me and reaches one of his monstrous hands up to cup my face, his thumb gently caressing my flushing cheek. I swallow my nerves and close my eyes in submission to this golden god before me.

The moment his hands touch me I feel at home, I can feel all the careful walls I've built up simply crumble without so much of a sound as they go down. I feel the stress of my life unwind, making me slump my shoulders slightly as the weight of the world is lifted off of me with an inhuman ease.

My hands drift up to tangle in his golden halo, reveling in its silky smooth texture. I want him to touch me more, set my troubled soul free with his kind hands.

His lightly chapped lips brush mine in a teasing way and I raise myself up on my toes to press our mouths together more. His other colossal paw comes down to my lower back to press my lithe body flush against his solid one.

I feel his arousal though our pants and I know he can feel mine too from the smirk I can feel on my lips. He kisses me harder, his soft tongue lapping at the seam of my lips and corners of my mouth. I smile lightly against his mouth and run my tongue along his lips as well, sucking the lower one into my mouth and giving it a little nibble. The soft moan I receive for my efforts makes me giddy with excitement and I open my mouth to allow his slick tongue to come in and explore.

He swipes his tongue along the roof of my mouth, my teeth and gums, tickling the inside of my cheeks, and gently tangling with my eager one. As the kiss gets more intense, the need to get naked deepens to the point where we're practically ripping the clothing off each other. My shirt experiences the extent of his strength as he pops the buttons off with far too much ease for him to be human.

I pull off his shirt before I move my shy fingers to work at the button of his jeans with not much luck at getting it undone. I can feel his sly smile as his hands come down to help release both his and my straining erections.

Our pants pool around our feet and we deftly step out of them and move to the bed. I land on top of him when we flop with a slight bounce on the small bed. I sit up and straddle the blond man, admiring his features in the dim light.

He makes quite the pretty picture. I consider myself a man that knows true beauty when he sees it, and this man is the very definition of the word. From the flush of his burnt and bronzed cheeks, to the way his heavily muscled torso heaves up and down in time with his baited breath.

I run my hands over his pecks and thick shoulder muscles, feeling their strength as they ripple beneath my touch. I knead his stomach muscles with my palms and watch in amusement when his ridiculously massive cock twitches in response.

I touch myself deftly as he runs those rough hands down my sides and thighs. I shudder and pump my hand faster, content with just seeing the man's hands explore my pale flesh. His hands travel to my ass and his fingers disappear to run teasingly along the outside of my pert and twitching hole.

I let out a desperate and pleading moan, begging him to touch me more without the use of words.

Keeping one of his hands steady too cup my ass, he shifts to his side slightly and fumbles with the drawer on his bedside table, pulling out a tube of lube. I can't help the grateful smile that comes onto my face as he spreads some on his thick, jagged fingers.

He leans back down and I straddle his stomach to give him an easier time of loosening me up. I feel one of his sweet and delicious fingers circle so very teasingly around my begging ring of muscle. I let out a low whine a push back on those godly fingers, simply pleading the man to just take me already.

When he finally pushes a finger in me, I let out a breathy moan and immediately press back on the singular digit. An arm made out of steel cords slips around my waist, and before I know it I'm on my hands and knees with the golden god kneeling behind me, those sinful fingers pumping in and out of my ass.

How many are there now? Two? Three? The familiar feeling of an orgasm pools in my gut, making my blood feel like liquid fire as I shove my hips wildly against this man's torturous fingers.

It's just not fair. He's teasing me too much, and I don't know if I can take much more of this sadistic treatment.

Burly arms wrap around my waist to pull me on top of his hard body once again. I waste no time in grabbing deftly at the bottle of lube and coating the man's mammoth erection. I grab a hold of the base of his cock and position myself accordingly.

I lower myself down very carefully, wanting all the pleasure and none of the pain the experience could bring. The blond god moans and slides his scratchy palms across my hips, stomach, and ass, avoiding any contact with my own weeping erection. Once the head is in the man lets out the breath he has been holding and throws his head back in an expression of pure ecstasy.

I allow gravity to carry my body down lower, panting quite loudly as I try not to scream at the painful stretching feeling I'm getting from the gigantic cock my ass is attempting to swallow.

He slowly rolls us over and cups the backs of my knees with his vast paws as he presses them to my chest so that my whole lower back is lifted up off the cushy bed. He begins to move in short and shallow thrusts, already filling me up and making a burning coil of lust appear in my gut as I listen to his grunts and watch his face contort in restraint and primal need.

I grab at the blonds' shoulders and dig my blunt nails into the tanned and heated flesh, making him suck in a sharp breath through his teeth. He nuzzles my neck and pecks my flushed flesh with his warm and comforting lips. I hold him closer to me, trying to pull him into my body so that he can make a home for himself there to keep me company.

He moves deeper and deeper into my body, causing tears to prick at my eyes. I blink them back quickly and choke back a small sob of fulfillment. I just try to focus on his heated breath on my neck and the sweet sounds of a piano playing in time with the low creaking of the bed.

I'd never admit it out loud but… I'm lonely.

Seeing this man everyday on the train keeps me sane as I drift through my unfulfilling life in a haze of disinterest and self pity. I crave companionship more than anything else and even if this is just a one night stand, this was more than enough to sooth my tired and beaten down soul.

The blond nymph releases my knees and I immediately hook my ankles behind him and pull him forever closer to me, begging soundlessly for him to get a little rougher.

His azure eyes flicker with some dark lust driven emotion and the friction between us increases tenfold. The sounds of my cries and the slap of skin against skin drowning out the symphony playing hurriedly in the background.

I can feel his hot breath puff against me as he screws me senseless. I drag my nails down his tanned back and he rewards my efforts with a startled cry of pleasure. I have to reach my hands up behind me to grab onto the head board to keep us from flying off the bed as he pistons into me with a renewed vigor.

He sits up and throws his head back in pleasure, mumbling out curses and slurs that could make a sailor blush. His pace is that of a race horse, making me strain my muscles just to ensure we to don't go plummeting to the floor. The liquid fire in my belly builds and builds with each desperate thrust and I can feel my eyes rolling back in my head from the intense feeling of pleasure this man's cock brings me.

The tanned man digs the pads of his hands into my hips so tightly that I can feel the bruises forming already. I'll wear them with pride, they will by purple prints of proof that I've had someone put their hands on me, someone loving my body, someone showering me with sweet attention that I so desire.

His breathing is ragged and his thrusts are more erratic and hurried then before. The sight of him losing control because of me is enough to make the burning coil of pure lust and fulfillment snap.

I convulse violently underneath his desperately thrusting body, curling my arms around his strong torso to tether myself to the one thing that's keeping me on this earth. He lets out a long and relieved yell as he comes inside my pale body, his hands tightening on my hips till he's nearly crushing my bones.

We fall in a heap onto the bed and stare into each other's eyes as we try to get our ragged breathing under control.

But our bodies aren't satisfied yet. He recovers faster than I do and his humongous hands are on me once again, enjoying yet another session of heavy petting. I helplessly throw my arms around his beastly shoulders, dragging him closer so that we can kiss.

The lust drags me down again, clouding my mind till I'm in a haze of desire. The blond god indulges me, and we wrestle around on the bed searching for more lube to get back the slick feeling again.

We fuck in position after position, attacking each other with our secret desires. The whimsical music is still playing in the background, seemingly driving us forward in our efforts to dirty the other. He thrusts along with the piano, and his hands glide along to the song of the violin, turning my body into his own personal instrument that only he can play.

Song after song, we move to the rhythms of each, drinking in the sounds of the others moans. By the time we finally collapse and can no longer move, it's much closer to the sunrise then sunset.

We curl into the others body, panting and sweating and satisfied. The blond deftly feels around on his bedside table till he finds what he's looking for – the remote to his stereo – and turns down the blaring crescendo of perfect harmonies so that it's more lulling than anything else.

He kisses my forehead and snuggles me even closer, making me feel so loved it hurts. I kiss his chest lovingly and mumble a tired "goodnight" to which he replies with a lazy "sleep tight".

…

I wake up to a dull and painful ache in my back and hips, and to the cold bed of a stranger's. I rub at my sleep crusted eyes and let out a lazy yawn, willing myself into a sitting position and scanning the room for the blond sex god that fucked me into the mattress the night before.

Yet he's nowhere to be found.

I flop back onto the bed and let out a big sigh. I know I should probably leave now. I know I should gather my cloths and slink out of this apartment, avoiding any possible contact with my one night stand for the next couple of years, but… I don't want to get out of his bed.

It smells like him. Sweet and musky, a very safe and comforting scent that relaxes me to the point that I can feel my eyelids drooping once again.

Is it possible to to love someone who's name you don't even know? To have a deeper connection to someone you've never even talked to then some of your oldest friends?

Is it wrong to hope this will turn into more than a one night stand? Can I even hope for something to come out of this?

I roll off the bed and onto the floor, wincing as I pull on the ruined and torn cloths that I find strewn about the room, appreciating each new hickey or bruise I come across. I stagger pathetically to the door and stumbled down the hallway to leave, my body too lethargic and sore to walk like a regular human being.

The smell of bacon hits me like a freight train, slamming into my senses and forcing me to follow my nose to the blond man's miniature kitchen. The sight that greets me is greatly appreciated, wearing just a 'Kiss the Cook' apron and a smile, is the golden sex god.

He's humming a tuneless tune and picking out the done pieces of sizzling bacon from the pan to put them on a plate with some steaming scrambled eggs already resting upon it. A ridiculously large smile spreads across my face as I notice the second plate of food resting next to the first.

He's making me breakfast.

He hears me slump against the wall and turns to face me for a moment and grins even wider before turning back to his cooking, "Hope you like your eggs scrambled."

"I do actually. The bacon smells really good too, when can we eat?" I walk up behind the giant and slowly snake my arms around his waist, burying my face between his bare shoulder blades.

"Heh, right now if you want," I feel him shift in my loose hold and drop my arms, stepping back and accepting the plate of delicious looking food and the fork the blond was offering.

"How'd ya sleep? I tried waking you up this morning but you were pretty dead to the world," his face breaks into a grin as he clears some of the old dirty dishes from the small breakfast table so that we can put our food down and eat.

"I don't think I've slept that well in awhile. I probably would've woken up relatively refreshed if you weren't so rough on me last night," I send him a playful glare and he laughs loudly. His voice sounds like bells.

"Well you were totally asking for it! I mean, I could just _tell_ you were feeling lonely, and _boy_ am I glad I took you home! You're a freak in the sheets!" I snort at his declaration and laugh, biting into a hot piece of crunchy bacon.

"Mm, that's really good. I'm surprised you know how to even work the stove, let alone make this tasty of a meal," I don't comment back about the night before, feeling a bit to self conscious to delve into the dirty little details yet.

I can feel his eyes on me as the companionable silence stretches on, I pause in my eager eating and glance up at him with a questioning gaze, my cheeks as full as a chipmunks.

He laughs and reaches across the table to ruffle my hair and I swat him away with my fork, I'm about to take another bite when he asks, "Hey, what's your name?"

I feel my heart flutter at the words – at the indirect promise of another meeting, "Sasuke, Uchiha Sasuke. And you are?"

The warmth of his smile and sincere fondness in his eyes melts my heart, making me helplessly devoted to this god before me, "I'm Naruto, Uzumaki Naruto. It's nice to finally meet you Sasuke."

**…**

**Review** and make my day! I'll make a sequel if enough people are interested!

**-Honeybee**


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